


Sugary Delights

by BumbleBeetle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable Peter, Baking, F/M, Fluff, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter is a Little Shit, Reader Knows Peter Is Spider-Man, Reader-Insert, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BumbleBeetle/pseuds/BumbleBeetle
Summary: A case of "mistaken as an intruder" turns out to be surprisingly beneficial...
Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Sugary Delights

**Author's Note:**

> \- peter is known city-wide as spidey
> 
> \- his reflexes are beyond human capacity after training, super-enhanced
> 
> \- part of the avengers, and shield
> 
> \- this is an alternate where tony lives and everybody's happy/nobody dies (too lazy to tag)
> 
> \- he's out of school on some unspecified holiday, and so has incredible amounts of free time
> 
> \- he harbors secret affections for y/n, but will never say
> 
> \- you're the exact same way, but it's all casual flirting and sarcastic banter

You'd officially had the worst day ever. Your manager had barked orders at you, customers had chewed your head off left and right, and you really, _really_ needed a de-stresser.

Turning away from the door, you shouldered off your backpack and tossed the keys onto a wooden side table, watching as they slid precariously. _To reach, or not to reach, that was the question._ Shaking your head, you decided against it out of pure laziness. _Whatever._ You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn't heard the light _thump_ that came from the other room.

_An intruder? Now, of all times?_

Daring to peek around the corner into your living room and kitchen beyond, a flash of color caught your gaze before disappearing. A foot retracted far too quickly, causing you to blink to make sure you weren't imagining things. A faint breeze buffeted the window curtains, causing them to flap and flutter about rather violently. 

That was the other odd thing - _you hadn't opened a window before you left._

"Hey. Hey, who's there? I-I have a weapon and I know how to use it," You spluttered out to whoever it was, trying to sound brave despite your frazzled nerves.

"I'm not intruding. At least, I don't think so," came the smart reply. Your brows knit, their voice sounding awfully, incredibly familiar. Recalling the several dozen you'd dealt with over the entire day was, frankly, too much. 

"Maybe if I show myself, things'll be easier, right?" There came the sure shuffle of clothing layers as the so-called attacker rose to their feet. The dim light danced over wild, windblown brown curls, cheeks tinted pink, and the wide, sheepish grin of none other than your best friend--

" _Peter Benjamin Parker_! What are you doing in my apartment?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, chewing his lip. "Well, as you can see, it's the perfect weather to stay inside and there weren't any patrols so I kinda figured I'd drop by to cheer you up. But, that, uh, backfired. Sorry if I spooked you, Y/N."

_Silly spider._

With a peck to his cheek, you grinned and slipped off down the hallway for a change of clothes. _You were itching to get out of your uniform._ "Make yourself at home, Parker! You know you're always welcome!" You called over your shoulder as your bedroom door shut.

* * *

Not fifteen minutes later you reappeared in lounge pants and an oversized knit sweater to the friendly neighborhood webhead dangling from your ceiling. A soft tune played from the radio in the kitchen, some sappy, angsty pop song that - unconsciously - had you smiling. The rain outside had come down signifigantly stronger, pelting the glass with heavy _thunks_ and _thuds_.

_Would it storm? You'd regretted to check the weather before your commute back..._

"Y/N! Up here! Hey, I was wondering," Peter rambled, dropping from pearly webbing to land on his feet, phone in hand, "that maybe we could bake cookies or something? You seemed like you needed a pick me up, so I've been googling recipes for the last half hour, and..." He trailed off as he took in your outfit. "...uh, wow." 

"Cookies are a good idea, P." You murmured, leaning up on tiptoe to boop his nose. "Come on, let's head to the kitchen." You then took his hands in yours, phone and all, laughing. 

Sliding across the tile in your socks, you turned to him and lifted a brow, hands on your hips. He chuckled, taking in your silly pose, wild hair, and scrunched-up nose. "Alright! What's first? Should we do chocolate chip? Oatmeal raisin? Sugar? Mint chocolate? Macadamia nut?" 

"How about classic chocolate chip?" Peter offered, zooming in on the text of an online baking recipe as he slid his phone between you. You scanned the ingredients, mentally checking off what you had nestled in those drab brown cabinets above the sink and diswasher. 

"How about you get the pans and things, and I'll get the ingredients? Since I _am_ taller." He teased, and you gave an eye-roll in response. Busying yourself with searching lower shelving, you couldn't help but to pause, to watch him in action. _Sugar, baking soda._ Stringy white strands shot all across your once-tidy kitchen from those web-shooters of his, shaking as they pulled taut, connecting with multiple bags and bottles. _Brown sugar, then vanilla extract, and semi-sweet chips._

_All that was left was the flour._

_Oh._

_Oh no._

"Hey, Peter--wait!" You lunged forward just as the final few snagged the package with gusto. It shot back like a rubber band, and exploded, showering everything in ridiculous amounts of white powder. Your clothes, his clothes, shoulders and hair, even his phone. You'd been knocked into his lap, and found yourself staring into wide, amused brown eyes. 

"You don't listen, do you?" You playfully smacked him on the cheek with a coated hand, leaving wiped-away smears. He grinned in response, spewing puffs into the air. "Looks like I'll have to go back out for that, yeah? My bad, Y/N." 

"You're such a dork!"

**Author's Note:**

> Will Peter tell Y/N how he feels? 
> 
> Does Y/N feel the same? 
> 
> Will the world be saved by the power of baking? 
> 
> As always, lovelies, comments and kudos are appreciated! 💞


End file.
